Every night, slips away (phone ringing)in other words, (yo, who’s this?) I should saythere are no words, (y’all heard it) you should saythere are no words, (I mean it’s life)every night, slips away (I mean, what can I say? it’s best)in other words, I should saythere are no words, you should saythere are no words

Ms. Hill, you got skills, that’s a gift, it’s realget ill, what you spit got the power to uplift the heelI wish I could talk to LaurynI mean excuse me, Ms. Hilland let her know how much we love her is realthe industry was beating her upthen those demons started eating her upshe need a savior that’ll bleed in a cup, yupwe used to kick it in the salad dayswhen she look at me like she ain’t know me when she see me nowadaysI nod, she nod back, that’s how it stayher songs still better than anything out therehotter power playremember how they accused her of sayingshe did her album without helpthen she went to Rome to singand tell the Pope about herselfjust after she left the Fugeesstarted rolling with the Marleysgot back with her crew at Dave Chapelle’s Block Partyshe made songs about Zionand trying to be faithfultook the Blackstar on tour in EuropeI was so gratefulspeaking for myself but I’m sure I could speak for DanteI got to watch a show with Nina Simone and Harry Belafontewe used to chill at Nkiru, her moms was a customershe used to love to buy the books by Octavia ButlerParable of the Sower, the main character’s name was Laurenwhat the album did for black girls’ souls was so importantI got concerned when she got sick on the roadshe ain’t heavy, I’m a brotherand I wish that I could pick up the load, but no

every night, slips awayin other words, I should saythere are no words, you should saythere are no wordsanother night slips awayin other words, I should saythere are no words, you should saythere are no wordsMs. Hill, you got skills, that’s a gift, it’s realget ill, what you spit got the power to uplift the hill

get her assitant on the the phone“I need to talk to Lauryn”and I wanna walk through the storm, and I could be the umbrellawhen the rain is pouringplease, this no disrespect to whoever your man is thoughthis relationship is strictly music like D’angeloI know you hate Babylon, and wanna see it fallbut they won’t let you read your poem at the BET awardsyou give us hope, you give us faith, you the onethey don’t like what you got to saybut still they beg you to come, whoanow that’s powerful sis, it’s black powerwe get money, keep our eyes on the final hourand no I ain’t saying you Christ, that would be sacriligous right?but you can blow up the night, sisters the rats is viciousthe raps the sisters recite with their black fist upthe devil’s last wish is a queen that rise past bitcheswe used to read Francis Crest or anythingby Third World Press will pressbut what the power of the word suggesthatched ideas in our heads like birds in the nestyou gave birth to a new sound like Don did West, yesshould I be saying all of this while the mic is on?I might as well let it out because one day I might be goneI write this song and hope you feel how much we love youand you play it, cause I really ain’t got the words to say itbut yo

every night, slips awayin other words, I should saythere are no words, you should saythere are no wordsanother night slips awayin other words, I should saythere are no words, you should saythere are no wordsMs. Hill, you got skills, that’s a gift, it’s realget ill, what you spit got the power to uplift the hill